Songs of Marryn
by BobwhiteBobwhite
Summary: Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs... A love like no dwarf had ever seen was that of Thorin and Lady Marryn of Dale. Thorin/OC
1. Girion's Feast

Beers clanked, music played, and the guests laughed and sang merrily as the feast wore on into the night. It was already midnight and the revelry showed no signs of slowing. Another year of successful trade between the cities of Erebor and Dale was the reason for this get-together.

Thorin took another swig of his beer, quietly observing the room. Men and dwarves alike were engaged in conversations and what appeared to be drinking games.

The silent dwarf's younger brother, Frerin, returned to sit beside him, sweaty from the last dance.

"Cheer up, brother!" Frerin thumped his older brother on the back, "Someday, you'll have to host such parties! Might as well try to enjoy them."

Thorin grinned half-heartedly. "I am enjoying it. I'm enjoying my beer here where I'm comfortable."

"You ought to be mingling," Frerin urged him, "How are you supposed to carry on the line of Durin if you have no children?"

"I'd happily leave that to you," Thorin replied, taking another mouthful of his drink.

"Or to Dìs," Frerin added, pointing to their sister, who was locked in the arms of some handsome young dwarf as they danced.

"Indeed," Thorin grunted, displeased with the scene.

"Come along!" Frerin cried, "One dance!"

"No, I…" Thorin stopped. Across the room, someone or something had caught his eye.

A flash of platinum hair and blue dress appeared through the crowd. The music stopped and the flash became a woman.

She laughed gleefully and applauded the musicians as they began their next song. Her dress was a navy velvet with gold trimming. She was thin and small but seemed to glow. Tired from her first dance, she merely swayed in place, her hair following like branches of a willow tree.

Her eyes were gray like the moon on a lake at night. And only then did Thorin realize too late that he had stepped close enough to see the color of her eyes.

He looked back at where he'd been sitting. Frerin sat there, mouth open and eyes wide. When he turned back, the eyes of the unfamiliar human woman were already upon him.

The dwarf froze in terror for a moment before he held out his hand, "Er.. Thorin, my lady."

She placed her hand in his. Her cheeks grew pink. "I know your name, son of Thrain. I am Marryn of Dale, my lord."

"Marryn," Thorin echoed, "I came to ask you for the next dance."

Marryn grew redder and looked over her shoulder at her companions that Thorin hadn't noticed. Before they could react, she looked back at the dwarf and said, "I'd be honored, my lord."

"I shall await you here, then, Marryn," he said her name quietly. He clumsily kissed the back of her dainty hand.

The dwarf then turned and went back to his brother's side, ignoring the delighted tittering of Marryn's friends.

"What did you say to her?" Frerin asked as Thorin took a large gulp of his abandoned beer.

"I asked for a dance," Thorin said breathlessly, not sure he believed it had really happened.

Frerin guffawed. "You didn't! You know you can't dance."

"I know," Thorin grumbled, "Why didn't you stop me?"

"You seemed to go into a trance," Frerin said, suppressing his laughter, "You rose from your seat and would hear no more from me."

Thorin placed a clammy hand to his hot forehead. "She'll think me a fool," he lamented.

"From the color in her face, I would have said she was quite charmed by you," Frerin encouraged him.

The song was beginning to wind down and Thorin's stomach knotted up. He glanced at the agreed-upon meeting place and saw Marryn waiting there already.

"What do I do?" he hissed.

"Just go," Frerin said, "Look at her and not at your feet and don't stop if you misstep."

Thorin nodded and took a deep breath. He weaved through the crowded hall to where Marryn was waiting, just as the song ended.

"For a moment, I worried you had changed your mind," the lady mumbled, afraid to meet the dwarf's eye.

Thorin chuckled uncomfortably, "It is you that should've changed your mind. I regret to tell you that I am a sorry dance partner."

Marryn smiled at him and laughed a little. Thorin, encouraged by this, smiled and offered the young woman his hand again. She placed her hand softly in his and he led her out as the next song began.

Though the top of his head reached only to about her chin, he was broader and made of a sturdier stuff. At first, the dance consisted of a simple series of steps and turns. As they danced, Thorin forgot his discomfort and looked only into Marryn's gray, smiling eyes.

They hooked arms and spun, Marryn's hair flowing like the sail of a fast-moving ship. She laughed, a pleasant tinkling sound like unto that of wine glasses toasting at a wedding.

They kicked their heels and clapped and stomped and if Thorin made a mistake, neither he nor his partner noticed. With a final move, the dwarf grasped Marryn's waist, she jumped and he spun her around once, causing her to squeal delightedly, and gently brought her back to the floor as the song ended.

The room burst into applause. Thorin took Marryn's small hands in his and the two of them laughed breathlessly.

"'Sorry dance partner,' indeed!" the lady laughed, "I cannot remember when I've so enjoyed a dance."

"No, nor I," Thorin chuckled.

She gazed down at him and he up at her for a while, both caught in a situation they hadn't anticipated.

"Well," Thorin said finally, "I suppose I shouldn't keep you from your friends. Though I am not overly eager to part from you."

"My friends are likely concerned with other things," Marryn replied, "I would be more interested to learn more of this Thorin, if you would allow it."

"I can think of nothing I'd like more," Thorin said, "Except to learn more of the lady Marryn in return."

As he led Marryn off to the side, he looked behind her back at his brother and father. Each of them watched him darkly, showing no sign of approval.


	2. Cool Night

Out on the balcony, the air was cooler and the sound of the party was muffled. A few of the other guests had come out to escape the noise.

Thorin and Marryn strode out arm in arm.

"It is a cool night," Thorin commented, "Autumn may come early this year."

"I hope not," Marryn said, "I long for summer nights all year and when I finally have them, they never seem to last long enough."

Thorin smiled. "I suppose that is what makes them all the more precious."

A soft breeze rustled the trees. The night was bathed in the blue light of the moon. The pair rested their hands on the cool stone and looked out over the city facing the mountain.

"A wonderful gathering," Thorin said, glancing back through the windows at the feast within the hall, "Lord Girion is certainly a fine host and a noble man, as far as I can tell."

"Yes, I daresay he is," Marryn agreed, also glancing back.

"He is no relative of yours, then?" the dwarf asked, surprised.

"No, sir," Marryn replied, slouching in embarrassment, mistaking the dwarf's surprise for disappointment, "I am no noblewoman."

"I would not have guessed," Thorin said, "You have a noble air about you. Pray tell where you come from, then, dear lady."

"I do not know," Marryn said, a shadow falling across her face, "I am a mere orphan, taken in by a kindly old man of Dale by the name of Haban."

"If you are an orphan with no knowledge of whence you came," Thorin said, "you might very well be a noblewoman without knowing it."

Marryn laughed, relieved that her lineage had not deterred her companion.

"I suppose you are right," she agreed.

"Your guardian, Haban," Thorin continued, "what is his trade?"

"He is a maker of fine clothes and hats," Marryn said, "I have been apprenticing by his side since I was a child. This dress is of my own making."

"He has taught you well," Thorin said, "Does he trade with Erebor?"

"Yes," Marryn smiled, "In fact, you now wear one of Haban's tunics."

Thorin looked down. "It is my best one. The silver leaves along the collar are especially well done."

"The gold and silver thread he gets from your kingdom," Marryn said, "He's not allowed me to touch one spool of it yet."

"I imagine not," Thorin chuckled, "Weaving gold and silver into thread is no simple task. A spool is certainly expensive."

Marryn folded her arms and asked, "What of you, dwarf prince? What fills the days of a king's grandson?"

"It is upon me to learn the crafts of my people. Mining and forging and the rest," Thorin answered, "I was also given the task to oversee the kingdom's guardsmen. Not much of a job, as there has been nothing to guard from for many years."

"An important task, nonetheless," Marryn said, "For it may not always be so."

"Sometimes I fear my grandfather values his treasure too highly," Thorin said suddenly in a low voice, "It grows worse by the day. He has a constant group of our best guards protecting the hoard day and night. He would not join us tonight for fear of being robbed."

"I do not know the depths of King Thror's jealousy," Marryn said, "but I hope you do not judge him too harshly just yet. Your people have much to lose. Not all jealousy comes from a place of evil. Some, I think, comes from a desire to protect that which one loves. Forget not that those same guards also protect you at times. You are your grandfather's greatest treasure."

"You speak true, my lady," Thorin nodded with a grin. He gazed at the young woman for a moment. With the moon upon her face, she looked sad and wise but no less beautiful.

She caught him looking at her and he looked away quickly, giving her time to admire his flowing black hair, thick beard and thoughtful visage.

The party inside finally seemed to be quieting. Some guests were even returning home.

"Your people will not make the trek home tonight I hope," Marryn wondered.

"Some may," Thorin said, "Girion has promised accommodations for the night in the inn."

"Do you...often come to Dale?" Marryn asked, looking up at the sky, "I imagine you're quite busy."

"I could make the journey more often," Thorin replied with a knowing grin, "craftsmen come to the city all the time. I could join them."

"I would not ask you to neglect your duties for my own benefit," Marryn said, shrugging.

"You would not have to," Thorin said, sliding his hand gently next to hers.


	3. Back to Erebor

"Well," Frerin said, speeding up to walk next to his brother, "You've been more silent than usual."

Thorin smirked and shifted his pack to his other shoulder. Frerin, smiling beneath his thick braided beard. He waited for some explanation but Thorin offered none.

"The human girl?" the younger dwarf asked in a lower voice, careful not to let others hear.

"Her name is Marryn," Thorin said quietly.

"Something did happen, then!" Frerin whispered.

Thorin sighed and said, "We have agreed to keep in contact, through letters and meetings when possible. That is all."

Frerin glanced ahead at their father walking at the head of the group.

"You ought not to have become so attached, brother," Frerin said, "A human woman has no place in the halls of Erebor."

"Calm yourself," Thorin grunted, "I found her charming. Is that such a crime? We are only talking."

"Talking may lead to something more," Frerin said, "Grandfather would never allow such a union."

"What makes you so sure?" Thorin asked.

"The kingdom of Erebor belongs to dwarves alone," Frerin said firmly, "The king would have his heir marry a noble and hardy dwarf woman."

"The king does not control my heart," Thorin hissed.

"It is precisely your heart I mean to save," Frerin said, "such dealings with a daughter of men can only end in tears."

With a huff, Thorin stomped away, joining a small group of his cousins as they walked toward the Lonely Mountain.

His sister, Dís, caught up to him.

"I'm in no mood for further lecturing from younger siblings," Thorin said gruffly.

"I have not come to lecture you," Dís replied just as gruffly.

Thorin frowned at his sister. She was a stout young dwarf with long braided hair the color of straw and a thin wispy beard to match. Though she was only in her early teens, Thorin had always found her to be wise beyond her years.

"I came to congratulate you," she said quietly, punching her brother hard on the arm.

"On what?" Thorin asked, rubbing his arm.

"Your human girl," Dís rolled her eyes impatiently.

Thorin smirked. "She is a friend. Nothing more."

"Sure," Dís replied, smirking back at him. She walked back to her friends without another word.

The morning was calm and warm, but the whispers of autumn were surely growing louder. Thorin looked back at the distant city of Dale and fumbled with the corner of a small bit of parchment in his pocket. On it was written the address of a certain tailor's shop, wherein lived the good lady Marryn.


	4. The Letter

"Marryn," Haban said for the second time.

Marryn continued to stare out the window, nervously unpicking the seams of an emerald coat.

"Marryn," the old tailor repeated himself louder.

"Huh?" Marryn asked, snapping back to attention.

"You've nearly unpicked the whole jacket, dear," Haban said, "A few more minutes and you would've taken apart every garment in the shop."

Marryn set her work down and slouched.

"I apologise, sir. I suppose I've been distracted," the young woman mumbled.

"Waiting for the mail, I don't doubt," Haban said, raising an eyebrow.

Marryn's mouth dropped agape and her gray eyes widened. "Sir?" she stammered.

Haban squinted his eyes and chuckled jovially.

"Come now," the old man said, "Gossip of the feast has spread even to those not in attendance, my dear."

Marryn grinned sheepishly.

Haban continued his embroidery. "A dwarf, eh?"

"His name is Thorin," Marryn said, "He is a friend."

"No mere dwarf," Haban said, "but a dwarf prince, no less."

Marryn sighed at his words. "Yes. I doubt he will write. He is certainly too busy to bother with some commoner from Dale."

"I would not lose hope just yet," Haban said, pointing one withered finger at the window behind her.

A young man with a leather bag was upon the doorstep, preparing to knock.

Marryn rose slowly, trying to appear unaffected. She opened the door and collected the letters from the messenger. Coming back into the workshop, she shuffled through the letters, placing most on Haban's desk.

"Orders, orders, payments, payments, orders," Marryn's heart leapt when she found the last letter addressed to her.

She held it up to show her guardian, a blush and a smile spreading over her face.

"Go on then," Haban said with a grin, "Not too long, though. That jacket is due tomorrow morning."

Marryn left quietly. Haban snickered as her calm footsteps turned into an excited sprint.

Marryn tore open the letter, hands shaking slightly.

 _My Lady Marryn,_ _I know it has only been two days since our meeting and I hope I do not seem overly eager. I have been able to think of little else since my return besides what I might write to you._ _A group of jewelers will be making a trip to market on the fifteenth. It is my plan to_ _accompany them and I hope to see you there._ _Life in Erebor is much as it has ever been. The kingdom is abuzz with news of a visit from King Thranduil of the Greenwood. None but my grandfather knows when he and his elvish company are due to arrive._

 _This Haban of yours is something of an unsung hero of my people. Cousins of mine swear that his garments make them taller through magic. I've been pressed into finding out if this is true._ _I hope you are well and I look forward to our next meeting_.

 _Thorin_


	5. Dale

The market was bustling as always, with merchants striking deals, coins jingling, and auctions being held.

Marryn was approached by a seller as soon as she entered the plaza. He was a ruddy, gray-haired dwarf with beetle-black eyes.

"Rubies, my lady," he said, holding up a glittering red necklace, "A good warm color for a lovely lady as we head into this colder season."

"Oh, no, thank you, sir," Marryn mumbled, stepping around him, her eyes searching the crowd.

Weaving about the crowded street, she began to wonder if she had missed Thorin somewhere along the way.

He emerged from the crowd already smiling. The dwarf approached Marryn and moved to embrace her, but thought better of it and took her hands in his.

"Lady Marryn," he said, gazing up at her, "I hope I find you well."

"Quite well, my lord," Marryn replied with a shy grin, "And yourself?"

"As of this moment, very well indeed," Thorin said.

The two of them hooked arms and made their way out of the crowded market.

Even away from the market, the city of Dale was relatively busy, often filled with strangers from other lands.

"Is Erebor so crowded?" Marryn asked as she and her companion turned a corner to head toward the fountain.

"I would say not," Thorin replied, "Not so many people but no less noise. Work never stops there."

They approached the fountain. In its center stood a tall stone statue of a king whose name had long been forgotten by all but the very wise. His strong, outstretched arm held aloft a sword, the tip of which was crumbled away.

The dwarf and his lady sat on the stone edge, listening to the trickling water.

"You might visit sometime," Thorin added, "If you would like."

"To Erebor?" Marryn asked.

"I would be delighted to show you my home," Thorin said, "The walkways, forges, great statues of my ancestors. I would introduce you to my father and to King Thror...if you found it agreeable, of course. I would understand if you wanted none of it."

Thorin looked away as if ashamed. Marryn smiled and took one of his hands in both of hers.

"It would be an honor to see the great kingdom under the mountain," she said, her face growing slightly pink, "Even if only to see the home of a most excellent dwarf prince."

Thorin chuckled and looked long at the lady's face, noticing now that the bridge of her nose was lightly freckled.

She tilted her head, a strand of moonlight falling from her shoulder.

"In your letter, you wrote that your cousins believed Habah was some sort of magician," she said with a smirk, "Would you like to meet him?"

"I'd be glad to," Thorin said, standing up, "Lead the way, my lady."

The pair hooked arms once more and marched two streets over. In the middle of one side sat the old tailor's shop. It was a well cared for building of white stone with a terracotta roof and a large bay window displaying the newest styles available.

Marryn opened the heavy wooden door for her guest. Thorin stepped inside and looked around the shop.

It was a clean, cool place with neatly arranged shelves of fabric and ribbon along one wall.

A short, bent old man appeared from the next room with thinning white hair and an ever-present smile.

"Marryn!" he said, startled.

"Haban," Marryn said with a grin, "may I present Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Prince of Erebor."

Haban bowed deeply at the waist. Thorin bowed his head slightly.

"I look upon a favorite tailor of the dwarves and he who raised the good lady Marryn," Thorin said, "I can think of no greater honor."


	6. Moon Pebbles

Marryn pulled Thorin's fur-hooded cloak around her. Nights were growing colder as autumn made herself comfortable in Dale.

The road to Erebor was nearly empty as most of Thorin's folk had returned home hours before.

"You will write me?" Marryn asked.

"I give you my word," Thorin said, "When the time is right, I will come for you to take you to Erebor. Capable though I know you are, I would hardly let you walk the road alone."

They were stopped at the edge of the city on the road back to the dwarven kingdom. Marryn went to return Thorin's cloak.

"Keep it, my lady," Thorin said, "Until we meet again."

Something caught the dwarf's eye.

"Moon pebbles," he said, gathering a couple of white stones from the ground and showing his companion.

They glowed faintly in the moonlight.

"They are no precious gem, but I've always been fond of them," the dwarf said.

He took from his pocket a small knife and chiseled something into one of the stones. The knife cut the rock like butter.

He placed the pebble in Marryn's hand. A rune that the young woman didn't recognize was carved neatly into the smooth rock.

"What is this?" she asked.

"I want you to keep it," Thorin said quietly, "And let it be a reminder that my heart is in your hand."

Marryn looked at him. Her eyes were wide and glittering.

"I apologise if I seem forward," the dwarf said, "I was never one to hide my feelings well."

"Carve the other as well," Marryn said, "As a reminder that you have mine in return."

Thorin smiled and obeyed. He kissed the newly carved rock and placed it in his breast pocket.

Marryn leaned forward and kissed the dwarf's warm, bristly cheek.

Thorin weaved his fingers through her hair and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Until we meet again," the dwarf whispered.


	7. Erebor

"Is she the one?" Dís whispered to her brother.

"That is she," Frerin replied, "I recognize her from the feast."

"I did not get a good look at her that night," Dís said, "She looks as if she couldn't lift dust from a mantel."

"I agree," Frerin said, "Very thin. I doubt the king will be pleased."

"Thorin has found something worthwhile in her," Dís said, "and I trust our brother's judgment, therefore I will like her as well as I might."

"Let us go," Frerin said, taking his sister's arm, "They'll be heading to grandfather's throne room first, I don't doubt."

This was not the only conversation of its kind when the dwarf prince Thorin marched into Erebor with a human woman on his arm.

In fact, by the time the pair had crossed the first hall, even the dwarves in the deepest parts of the mines had heard some version of the tale.

Marryn gazed about the hall in awe. She had heard great tales of Erebor and its cavernous halls and staircases, but found her breath taken by the beauty of it.

"There is Thorin the first," the dwarf prince pointed to one of several enormous stone statues of noble-looking dwarves with hard expressions, "Nain the first, there."

He smirked slightly at his companion's expression. Her gray eyes were wide with wonder and it was an effort for her to keep her mouth closed. She fiddled nervously with the moon pebble that now hung from her neck on a gold chain.

They hesitated outside a heavy green door.

"This is the throne room of the king of Erebor," Thorin said, taking Marryn's hand, "Worry not, my lady. You look beautiful."

Marryn gulped and nodded. Thorin gave her hand an encouraging squeeze and led her through the door.

Arm in arm, they approached the throne. Marryn tried to keep her eyes from wandering.

"Hail Thror, son of Dain the first, King of Erebor," Thorin called.

The king was an intimidating figure, ornamented with heavy armor and intricate crown. He was surrounded by guards and his son, Thrain, who Marryn had seen at the feast. There were two others, undoubtedly siblings of Thorin judging by appearance.

"Two stand before me, yet only one do I recognize," the king said, "Thorin, pray tell me who you bring before the throne of Erebor."

His voice was more powerful than Marryn would have guessed from a dwarf so ancient in appearance.

"Your highness, I bring before you the good Lady Marryn of Dale," Thorin declared, "She has come to see Erebor with her own eyes and to look upon its great king."

Marryn curtsied, keeping her eyes downcast and her mouth in a polite grin.

The dwarf king looked from Marryn to Thorin to Thrain and back again.

"A highly unusual visitor," Thror said, "Still, until she proves otherwise, she is a welcome one."

A weight lifted from Marryn's chest. She had to stop herself from sighing with relief.

"You are invited to join us for supper, Lady Marryn," the king added, nodding to her.

"Thank you, your highness," Marryn said, trying to hide her shaking hands, "Your kingdom is great and beautiful beyond description. Stories of the dwarves' skill and craftsmanship do them no justice."

Thror looked surprised. "I am flattered by your praise. You have only seen my foyer."

All the dwarves chuckled warmly, including Thorin.

"Show our visitor something truly impressive, Thorin," the king said, "Frerin, Dís, accompany them. Perhaps between the three of you, you might be able to recall most of the history of the kingdom."

"Yes, your majesty," the two siblings bowed and joined Thorin and Marryn.

The four of them marched out of the king's presence. Only Frerin looked back to see the dark look upon the king's face.


	8. The King's Command

"I consider it a kindness that I did not throw the foul temptress out as soon as I saw her," Thror growled viciously, "And to think that my own grandson could fall victim to such trickery. I thought you wise!"

Thorin stood, arms folded, glowering at his grandfather. "Of what trickery do you speak? Marryn was a more gracious guest than most. What action of hers has caused this suspicion?"

"Open your eyes, lad!" Thror said, "What interest would a common human have in a dwarf besides the promise of a vast fortune?"

"Marryn cares not for piles of gold or jewels," Thorin scoffed.

"She is of a greedy race who desires riches above all else," the king's face grew red, "What reason have you to believe she is any different?"

"I pledged with a token of a mere moon pebble," Thorin said firmly, "and she asked for nothing more."

Thror stopped and stared at his grandson, horrified.

"You've pledged yourself to a human seamstress?" he asked, his voice grave and quiet.

"I have," Thorin declared, shaking with anger and bravado, "And she has pledged herself to me in return."

"Remove yourself from my sight," the king whispered dangerously, "You have disgraced the name of Durin. You will have no further contact with this Marryn of Dale as long as I live."

"I shall count the days," Thorin said under his breath as he stomped away.

Frerin was waiting for his brother outside the door.

"What did he say to you?" the younger dwarf asked, jogging to keep up.

"He has made a command that I cannot obey," Thorin hissed.

"Brother, I beg you to see reason," Frerin said, "The king speaks only out of concern for you."

"For me?" Thorin scoffed again, "He speaks out of concern for his hoard of gold. It is all that fills his mind as of late."

"Thorin," Frerin pleaded.

Thorin stopped in his tracks and looked at his brother impatiently.

"Say you are given all you desire," Frerin said, "Say you are wed to the Lady Marryn and she becomes your queen. The fact remains that you are a dwarf and she is a human."

Thorin's face softened slightly.

"Are a few short years worth half a lifetime of loneliness and sorrow?" Frerin asked.

Thorin took Marryn's moon pebble from his pocket and held it in his hand. Its smooth sides cooled his palm. He stroked the carved rune with his thumb.

The dwarf looked at his brother. "There is no sorrow I would not endure for the love of Lady Marryn."


	9. Dís the Messenger

Marryn sat by the window, her chin in her hand. For nearly ten days, the messenger boys had come and gone with no news of Thorin.

The lady drummed her fingers on the desktop while her mind wandered elsewhere.

Outside, the day was bright but cool. Traders and merchants scurried to and fro along the busy street.

"A lovely day," Haban's voice rang out behind her.

Marryn turned. "Yes, it is," she said quietly.

"I'm sure you'd rather be somewhere else," Haban said with a knowing grin, "When will we see more of that fine dwarvish friend of yours?"

Marryn shrugged and smiled but her jaw began to shake and her eyes grew wet. With a heavy sob, she rose to her feet and ran away, covering her face with her hands.

Alone in her bedroom, she wept, feeling abandoned and foolish. Perhaps it had only been a foolhardy dream that she and Thorin could be together. Perhaps she had simply been the victim of an elaborate prank.

She remembered the moon pebble that hung about her neck and stroked it with her fingers. A feeling of calm and reassurance fell over her.

She sighed deeply and wiped her tears away in time to respond to a knock on her door.

She opened it and Haban stood with a letter in his hand.

"Perhaps this will dry your tears, love," he said holding it out to her, "A strange young dwarf woman came to the door very discreetly and said that Thorin has been forbidden to leave Erebor for the time being."

"Thank you, Haban," Marryn said, "I am sorry I acted so. One would think I hadn't reached the age of five."

Haban sighed and then laughed. "I have raised you since you were young and to this day, I am at a loss when it comes to your tears. I can only hope that they are quickly replaced with a smile."

Marryn grinned and hugged the old man. "I could have asked for no better guardian."

Haban kissed the girl's forehead softly and said, "Go on. I can see you are anxious to hear the news. Inform me of what you will. I quite enjoyed Thorin's company."

"I will," Marryn promised.

As Haban limped away, Maran pulled Thorin's letter open.

 _My love,_ _I am deeply sorry to have made you wait so long. It has been incredibly difficult to get this letter to you, as my movements are watched day and night._ _I regret to tell you that the king has forbidden me from contacting you. It is no fault of yours and let me be clear when I say that I have no intention of obeying this command. I tell you this only to explain my absence and beg your patience._ _I am sending this letter with my sister, Dís, who has agreed to act as our messenger whenever possible._

 _I apologise for the short letter. I simply could not leave you in the dark. My love for you is no less strong._ _Until we meet again,_ _Thorin_


	10. The Pool

"Brother," Dís said, with a smirk, "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Thorin looked up from his work. His sister stood nearby with a cloaked figure, short and dwarf-like.

"Dís, please," Thorin said, returning to chiseling golden flakes from the wall, "Not now."

"Thorin," Dís said firmly, "You will enjoy this meeting."

Thorin dropped his tools with a sigh. He faced the strange dwarf and noticed gray eyes peeking out from beneath the hood.

"My lady?" Thorin whispered hoarsely.

The figure nodded.

Thorin glanced at Dís who smiled expectantly at him.

"You are a blessing, little sister," the dwarf whispered, squeezing her hand.

"I know," Dís replied with a smug grin, "And I expect to be compensated. Do you know how hard it is to disguise someone as a dwarf?"

Thorin chuckled and led the disguised Marryn down the hall. The pair traveled quickly and discreetly, avoiding suspicion. Through green stone halls lit with crackling torches, he walked before her, pretending she was a stranger.

Finally, they entered a room and the dwarf locked the door behind them.

"You had me fooled," Thorin said with a grin.

Marryn stood up straight, removed her hood and detached her false beard.

"Dís did this in case any of my hair became visible," Marryn said, motioning to the thick braids mixed in with her hair, "and I rather like it."

"As do I," Thorin said.

Marryn rushed into his arms and kissed him. He held her tightly in his strong arms for a long while without saying anything.

"This is a beautiful room," Marryn asked, "Is it yours?"

"It is," Thorin said.

The dwarf prince's room was cool and dim. There was no sign that the room belonged to Thorin at all. A large wardrobe stood against one wall and across from it, a large bed covered in all manner of animal furs. Between them, there was an arched doorway leading into another room beyond.

"You've not yet seen my favorite part," Thorin said, taking her hand and leading her through to the next room.

Inside, there was a large elevated pool of water with a small bubbling fountain. This room was steamy and warm, making Marryn wonder how the first room was kept so cool. Across from the pool stood a golden rack draped with white linens.

Before Marryn realized he had gone, she looked up in time to see a naked Thorin jump into the pool, splashing hot water and causing her to squeal in surprise.

The dwarf rose up again out of the water, his hair dripping and a playful smile on his face.

"Join me, my lady," he said, holding out his hand to her.

"A clever disguise to see my bare body, master dwarf," Marryn said, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

Thorin shrugged sheepishly.

The human woman undid the braids from her hair and freed herself from her dwarf costume. She stood hesitantly at the edge of the pool.

The dwarf admired her with his jaw agape. Marryn bit her lip and jumped in beside him. She emerged again and wiped the water from her eyes, laughing.

"It is no wonder this is your favorite part," she said, "already I would stay here forever."

Thorin pulled her close, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin against his.

"And someday you will," the dwarf said, "I promise."


	11. Dragon Fire

The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in the hot, dry wind.

It was unusual and unwelcome weather to Thorin, who had been taught since he was a young boy to learn the signs of danger.

The wind grew hotter and more fierce very quickly. Finally, Thorin called to Balin, "Sound the alarm. Call out the guard and do it now."

"What is it?" the warrior asked.

"Dragon," Thorin said.

The guards were called and Erebor was put on alert.

The last time Thorin looked out on the city of Dale was when a hulking shape barreled through in a burst of flames.

"DRAGON!" he bellowed to the dwarves.

Each dwarf sprung into action, moving to protect their city from the oncoming attack. The gates were quickly barred and the dwarves, armed for battle, stood their ground ready to fight to the death.

But even the heavy gates were no match for the claws of the dragon that soon burst through. The beast stomped through Erebor, killing and destroying with each step.

Thorin and a handful of the dwarves of Erebor barely escaped with their lives, some gravely injured.

As they fled the city, Thorin spotted an army of elves led by King Thranduil.

"Help us!" he called and waved to them.

After what seemed like a moment of hesitation, the elf king turned his back on the dwarves.

Thorin, betrayed and angry, could only continue to help his people however he could.

Just as quickly as it had begun, the attack on Erebor was over and the dwarves forced from their home by a monstrous dragon.

Far from the city, Thorin stopped to rest.

"Balin," he whispered hoarsely, "What became of the survivors from Dale?"

Balin sat beside him, weary and afraid. He put a hand on the prince's shoulder.

"My lord, I saw no survivors fleeing Dale," the older dwarf replied carefully, "If there were any, I did not see what became of them."

Thorin fell to his knees, and knelt there frozen and breathless for a long time.

"I'm sorry, lad," Balin whispered.

"I should never have let her out of my sight," Thorin sobbed, "She was so small, I should have been there. I could have saved her."

He pounded his fist heavily against the ground.

"There is nothing you could have done, Thorin," Frerin said, kneeling next to his brother, "the dragon wiped out the city in a matter of seconds. You would have been taken just as quickly as the rest."

"It would have been better," Thorin groaned, "that I had died with her."

"Thorin," Dís interjected.

Thorin looked up at his sister. She had a pained look on her face.

"Having been your messenger for these past weeks, I had begun to know Marryn well as a friend. As a sister," Dís declared, "If there is one thing I know, it is that she would not have wanted you to give up here. She would want you to be the king she knew you were born to be."

Without warning, Frerin began to sing in a low voice.

 _At autumn's feast, in Girion's hall, the Lady Marryn danced._ _The dwarvish prince, he saw her there, and asked her if perchance_

 _She'd dance with him, into the night, beneath the grinning moon._ _The lady fair and prince of dwarves, they danced so long that soon,_

 _We could not part the dwarf from her, nor keep her far from him._ _With dragon fire and homes laid low, the future now seems dim._ _She waits for him in lands beyond, described in tales of old._

 _A_ _nd in due time, he'll join her there, to live in halls of gold._

Thorin looked up at his brother, surprised and comforted. Frerin smiled encouragingly at him.

Thorin stood and took the moon pebble from his pocket. He kissed it softly and held it to his heart.

"Until we meet again," he whispered.


	12. Settlements of Men

The fall was harsh outside of the mountain. Even the dwarves, normally sturdy and long-suffering, were beginning to slow in their march.

They stumbled into a small settlement. A farmer greeted the tired dwarves. Thror and Thrain, still in shock of losing the kingdom, left Thorin to lead the way.

"We are refugees from Erebor," Thorin explained to the farmer, "We will work in your fields for a share of the harvest."

The farmer looked worriedly at the large group of dwarves. "I'm sorry, master dwarf, I have no work for you."

"Please, sir, my people are starving," Thorin pleaded, "We are hard workers, I swear on my life."

"It is not that I do not trust the strength of dwarves, sir," the farmer replied, "But I have already hired a group of men to help me for the day."

Around the corner came a small crowd of downtrodden men. Never had Thorin seen such a desperate group. And among them…

"Thorin?" a voice cried.

Thorin looked. A weathered creature smudged with ash stepped forward. Her hair and skin were coated with a layer of dust from long travels.

"Marryn?!" the dwarf cried back, sprinting for her.

"Thorin!" she yelled again, running toward him.

The dwarf caught her in his mighty arms, kissing her wildly here and there.

"Marryn, my love," Thorin breathed, "I thought you dead."

"I thought you were," Marryn replied, kissing him back.

"How did you escape the city?" Thorin asked.

"I was in the market when the dragon attacked," Marryn said, her eyes downcast, "Haban perished when the beast's tail toppled the building."

"I am sorry," Thorin said, holding her close. She rested her lips against his forehead.

"Never leave me again," Thorin whispered, "Travel with us. I cannot lose you again. Please."

"I will," Marryn said, stroking his beard, "I follow where you lead, my king."


	13. Camp Fire

"It will not do to wander through the winter," Thror said, "taking jobs from farmers here and there. We must find a new settlement."

"I agree," Thrain said, "but where might we go?"

"Dwarves have long been driven away from Moria," Thror said, "We might reclaim the ancient kingdom."

"Perhaps someday," Thorin spoke up, "But now is not the time. Our people are hungry and weak. Even if we survived the journey, we have not the strength nor the numbers to drive out the evil in Moria."

"Thorin is right," Thrain said, "Our responsibility is to our people."

"Yes, to _our_ people," Thror said.

"Meaning?" Thorin asked sharply.

"Meaning there is no place for your little human pet," Thror said.

"Marryn has been working for her keep along with the rest of us," Thorin said.

"Keep her if you will," Thror said, "but if she becomes a distraction or a hindrance, I will have her removed."

"Is this the time for such petty grievances?" Thrain asked incredulously, "Our people work their hands to the bone for little food and you worry only about a harmless human?"

Thorin and Thror glared at each other but took Thrain's words to heart.

"Would the dwarves of the Iron Hills turn us away?" Thorin asked.

"There would be no way of knowing until we got there," Thror said, "Temperamental devil, my brother is. Were he in the right mood, he'd give us the clothes off his back but we cannot risk it. The girl might set him over the edge."

Thorin sighed, but argued no further.

"We might seek refuge in Dunland," Thrain suggested.

"It would certainly provide shelter for us for a short time at least," Thorin said, looking at his grandfather, "and we can take jobs as needed on our way."

Thror sighed. "Very well," he said, "at dawn, we make our way to Dunland."

Thorin left the company of his father and the king. The dwarves of Erebor huddled around several campfires. Thorin found Marryn sitting beside Dís, a wool blanket draped over both of their shoulders.

He sat beside Marryn and took her hand.

"Any news?" Dís asked quietly.

"We make for Dunland," Thorin replied, "For the winter, at least. From there, who knows?"

He looked at Marryn. There was a sadness to her now that, try as he might, he could never take away completely. Even when she smiled, there was a shadow in her eyes.

The fire cast an orange glow on her weary face. She looked at him and grinned.

"We will be safe in Dunland?" she asked.

"I do not know," Thorin said truthfully, "It will be difficult. The road is long and the land is wild but we believe there is more opportunity for us there. We will endure."

Frerin joined them, dumping two dead rabbits into Thorin's lap. "Dunland, eh?"

"So it would seem," Thorin replied, sighing in annoyance.

"When?" Frerin asked, sitting on the other side of Dís.

"Tomorrow," Thorin said, "At dawn."

He began the unpleasant task of skinning and cooking the rabbits.

"Where will your people go, Marryn?" Frerin asked.

"The few who survived the attack on Dale have decided to make their homes among the men of the lake in Esgaroth," Marryn said quietly.

"Will you continue Haban's work from there?" Frerin asked.

"She is coming with us," Thorin snapped, slicing violently through the fur of one rabbit.

Marryn placed a gentle hand on the dwarf's back.

"I could not hope to continue Haban's work," she said patiently to Frerin, "I had not yet learned all of the necessary techniques before he was killed."

Frerin nodded politely.

Thorin made quick work of the rabbits and handed them to Frerin.

"You always were the better cook, brother," he said with a smirk.

Frerin rolled his eyes and smiled a bit. As he stood at the spit, Marryn looked at each of the dwarves.

Frerin was tired but good natured and funny. Dís frowned more these days but was still stalwart and stubborn. Thorin seemed to have aged years in only a few days. Marryn thought she even saw a bit of gray peeking in at his roots.

"Tell me tales of Erebor," Marryn said, "as the dwarves knew it."

All of the dwarves perked up at this. The group stayed up longer than they meant to telling stories of their homeland until they each drifted off to sleep.


	14. A Sword for Marryn

The company had covered much ground before they finally set up camp for the evening.

"We are entering dangerous lands, my love," Thorin said, "I suppose you do not have a weapon."

"I do not," Marryn said, "and even if I did, I would not know how to use it. Haban kept none in his home that I knew of."

"You have no skill with any weapon?" Thorin asked, surprised, "Even in defense of your life?"

"Only a needle," Marryn joked.

Thorin blinked at her and said, "Come with me."

She followed him outside the circle of the camp. There stood a bale of straw left by some farmer.

From beneath his coat, Thorin pulled a sword. It was small and light with a wrapped handle.

"I traded some of my food shares for this," Thorin said, "Those without swords can still die upon them."

He handed it to Marryn who held it uncomfortably.

"Take a swing," Thorin said, pointing at the straw bale.

Marryn sliced at the straw, her face red with embarrassment at being watched.

"Another," Thorin said, "harder this time."

Marryn tried again, harder than the first time but still not hard enough to make much of a difference.

Thorin approached and stood close behind her, wrapping his arms around her to adjust her feeble grip on the handle.

"Like this," he said, his warm hands guiding her gently.

He slid his hands up her waist. "Keep firm through here."

He stood at a safe distance and said, "Feet apart. It'll help you keep your balance."

Marryn obeyed.

"Swing again," Thorin said, "and use more than your arms this time."

With a grunt, Marryn slashed at the straw bale again. She looked to the dwarf for approval.

"Better," he said, "much better. Keep practicing."

Without warning he drew his own sword and swung it lightly at her. She knocked the blow away with a gasp.

"A quick reaction," Thorin commented, "Good. But keep in mind that an enemy will not be so gentle."

He put his sword back in its sheath and gave her one as well. "The sword is for you. Practice with it when you have time and do not hesitate to use it in time of need. I cannot lose you again."

Marryn sheathed the sword hesitantly and tied it about her waist.

"Do you really think I will need to use it?" she asked rather hoarsely.

"I pray you do not," Thorin said, taking her hand and kissing it softly, "But there is no harm in being prepared. If ever I am not there to defend you, then you must do it yourself."

Marryn nodded. Thorin kissed her deeply before the two of them strode back to camp arm in arm.


	15. The Warg

"No," Thorin barked roughly.

"Thorin," Frerin reasoned, "taking the trail through the forest would shorten our journey by days at least."

"Neither that accursed forest nor any of its spineless inhabitants are any use to us," Thorin said harshly, "We make for the gap of Rohan."

"I agree," King Thror said finally, "I would not go near those elves should the end of all days be upon us. They turned their backs on us in our time of need. I can only see them hindering us."

"Father, be reasonable," Thrain said, siding with his younger son, "Thranduil knew a fight against the dragon was hopeless. He had his own people to worry about. He did what any of us would have done. I do not think he would hesitate to help us now."

"We'll have no food once winter sets in," Frerin added, "The elves are almost certain to have provision enough for our company."

"I would rather die than take scraps from elves," Thorin growled.

"Then you and all of our people might," Frerin said.

There was a commotion and no small number of screams nearby.

Without hesitation, Thorin and Frerin forgot their argument and ran toward the noise.

A dwarf woman had fallen to the ground, her baby in her arms. Marryn sat on the ground next to her, her bloodied sword still in hand. Before them both, a dead warg lay bleeding into the dry grass.

"What happened?" Thror asked, catching up.

Thorin and his brother approached the scene.

"It was her!" one dwarf cried, "the human girl killed the warg!"

"Are you alright?" Frerin asked, helping the dwarf woman to her feet.

The frazzled woman nodded and held her squirming baby close.

Thorin knelt beside Marryn, who stared distantly at the beast she'd slain.

"Marryn?" the dwarf said softly, breaking her trance.

She looked at him as if he startled her. "Thorin," she whispered, burying herself in his arms.

Other dwarves approached the warg now and examined the scene.

"She was the only one close enough," one murmured.

"This warg was sickly," another said, "Very lucky for all of us that she got him."

"You saved at least one life tonight, my love," Thorin said, trying to console the shaking human woman.

"I've never killed anything before," Marryn said softly.

Thorin laughed. "You could have done much worse."

Marryn looked at him with tears in her eyes and smiled. Her smile faded as the clump of heavy boots approached.

The king stood before the couple, glaring down at them.

"Get up," he said gruffly.

Thorin rose and helped Marryn up. They stood before Thror, who crossed his arms roughly.

"From the beginning, I have said that you would be the cause of any mischief to befall my grandson. I just knew you were only after our treasure and that you would do anything in your power to obtain it."

"Your highness, you--," Thorin began, but the king silenced him with a motion of his hand.

Thror looked at Marryn and took her hand.

"Forgive me," he said, his voice breaking, "I was blinded by a jealous greed and I have judged you harshly. Our people are lucky to have you with us."

The king kissed the back of the human girl's hand.

"Thank you, your majesty," Marryn said, curtseying slightly.

"Thank you, Lady Marryn," the dwarf woman squeaked, holding her baby tightly, still breathing heavily, "Thank you."

"My king," Thorin said, stepping forward, "With your permission and if the lady is willing…"

He glanced up at her with a breathless smile.

"It is my wish for us to be married as soon as we reach Dunland."

Thror placed his hands on his hips. "No, Thorin, I will not allow it."

Thorin's face fell for a moment before the king smiled and added, "I see no reason to wait. In such dangerous times as these, if you've found the one, you mustn't let go."


	16. The Wedding

Frerin nudged his brother. "You're breathing like a tired dog," he whispered.

"This is not quite the wedding I had planned to give her," Thorin whispered back.

The dwarves had mustered what little they had to decorate for the prince's wedding. Two large fires burned and between them stood King Thror, Thorin, Thrain and Frerin.

The dwarven men of Erebor were seated on the ground, bundled up and huddled close together, their noses and ears red but smiling nonetheless.

"Don't worry," Frerin whispered, "Marryn cares not for riches. You've said so yourself."

Thorin gulped, sighed and nodded.

Suddenly a hush came over the crowd as the first notes of a traditional wedding march sung by women's voices rang through the air.

The dwarf women surrounded the bride as they normally would, breaking away two by two to join the crowd until only Dís and Marryn remained. The princess led the human up to stand across from Thorin on the other side of the king.

The bride was draped in all the white clothes and linens that the women had left, some of it faintly stained with mud or ash. She wore no jewelry or flowers, but her silvery hair was run through with several thick braids and a crown of dried orange leaves sat upon her head.

Thror coughed slightly and said, "We've, er, never performed a marriage ceremony in the common tongue before. Never had to."

The assembly chuckled quietly. Thorin smiled at Marryn with a twinkle in his eye.

"And I know we're all eager to get the formalities out of the way," Thror said, winking "Each for our own reasons."

A roar rose from the crowd and Thorin and Marryn blushed slightly, but smiled and laughed along with the crowd of the dwarves.

"Therefore, I will have to translate as best as I can," Thror said, "The rings, please, Frerin."

Frerin pretended for a moment that he'd lost them, earning him a light-hearted punch from his brother when he finally produced them.

Thorin's moon pebble had been ground and polished into a luminous band, while Marryn's had been mounted like a diamond on an intricately woven band of metal by one of the master jewelers among the dwarves of Erebor.

"May your days be bright as these gems, er, pebbles from the earth," Thror recited, "May your union be as strong as the foundations of our world. May the trials of your life refine and strengthen you as precious things in a forge."

He handed Thorin Marryn's ring, saying, "Thorin, as you place this ring upon Marryn's finger, will you vow to love her as she is and as she will become? To protect her and be strong where she is weak? To choose her and only her as long as you both shall live? And, will you vow to take her at your side and weather what the world will throw at you, never losing sight of this promise?"

"I will," Thorin replied, placing the ring on Marryn's finger.

Thror gave Marryn Thorin's ring, "And will you, Marryn, as you place this ring upon Thorin's finger, vow to love him as he is and as he will become? To protect him and be strong where he is weak? To choose him and only him as long as you both shall live? And, will you vow to take him at your side and weather what the world will throw at you, never losing sight of this promise?"

"I will," Marryn grinned down at Thorin, placing the ring on his finger.

"Before Ilúvatar, Aulë, and before the dwarves of Erebor, I pronounce Thorin and Marryn husband and wife," Thror concluded.

The dwarves cheered raucously as Thorin kissed his bride. There was no feasting or dancing, for the night was cold and no food could be spared. The dwarves could only send the new couple off with songs and blessings.

They retreated to a ramshackle shed made of wood and shrubs. Inside, it was warm and full of humble gifts.

Thorin took Marryn's hands in his and kissed them softly.

"What would you ask of me, love?" he whispered.

"Make me yours," she whispered in reply.

Thorin smiled and explored her with shaking hands, kissing her softly.


End file.
